Tag: entry

These last few weeks have been hard, and I am still processing one of the biggest losses of my life. I honestly have no clue what happened or when it happened, but I had thought we were still just waiting for Yule. I thought I had given you enough space, but maybe I had given you too much. I feel hurt and betrayed because I thought the tender moments we had started having again meant something. The moments so much like the beginning where you would game while I lay on your bed, just watching you and relishing in the feeling that I was the luckiest man in the world to have you in some form in my life. I am hurt that you felt like you couldn’t be open and honest with me, like you had to blindside me with an eviction. Yes, for M’s sanity and yours, we had to find somewhere else to go, and we were looking, but you asked us to stay until April; so we stopped.

I want nothing more than things to go back to the way things were, but I don’t know if they can or even if you want me anymore… I want to cry out my heartbreak and scream out my frustration, but what good would that do now… After everything I’ve confided in you, after every difficulty decision I’ve had to make, I feel like you left me completely alone… Not only did you remove yourself from my life, but you also have caused my family to drift away from me.

You were offended, not so many months ago, that I would dare call you a traitor, on the word of someone I should never have trusted, but fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…… This time you did betray me. You betrayed my trust in you and your word, and you will probably never forgive me for saying that, but it is how I feel. My feelings are valid, but if they are based on something false, let me know; so we can resolve this like adults.

What is it about me that attracts people who cannot get along to me? Why is it that I am always being torn between two or more parties? Why am I always being told that “you have to choose between me and _______”? Why should I have to choose?! Why can’t you pretend to get along for the five minutes you’re together, trading me like a divorce child?

I shouldn’t have been forced to choose between my biological family and my husband. I shouldn’t have been forced to choose between my extended family and my husband. I shouldn’t have been forced to choose between myself and my husband. I shouldn’t have been forced to choose between my boyfriend and my husband. And yet I was, and what did I choose every single time?

Now I’m being forced to choose between my poly family and my husband and between my poly family and my future boyfriend. I don’t want to choose, but if I must, I know what the answer is.

Every relationship is give and take… I used to feel like I was over-flowing with whatever energy you give to others… I would spend every day, trying to better those around me… Then I met the love of my life… I poured everything I had into my relationship with him, and he took everything from me… He broke my heart over and over and over again over five years… He chipped away at my inner vessel… I no longer could hold that energy; it seeped out from the cracks… I felt empty… Like I could never be happy… Truly depressed…

Then I finally got the courage to shut him out of my life completely… I moved on… Focused on school, learning, improving my mind… I felt like an emotional zombie… I could no longer develop proper relationships… I stalked the guys I liked until they hated me…

Then I met T… He opened up my world to sensations I had never felt before… I thought that was true love… I gave him everything I had, and he drained me dry before abandoning me… He abused me on every level: physically, psychologically, sexually, emotionally, and I begged him not to leave me… No one else could love me the way I was… But he was gone…

M loved me anyways… I didn’t think it was possible, but I handed him the broken pieces of my heart out of desperation… I needed someone to love me… He took the challenge of piecing me back together, and in less than a year, I was again overflowing; I was holding enough energy to be happy and to make others happy…

But time changes people… The man who once put me back together with his own two hands, now chipped away at my heart… The cracks began to reopen… I was giving and giving and giving, leaking more and more energy… Before I crashed… I hated M for what he had done to me… Hated those he loved more than me…

I wanted to leave him, but I had nowhere to go… I could only hide in his shadow, waiting to die…

Then he introduced me to polyamory, a whole new world where I could be who I wanted and could get what I needed… I learned to love again, and the people I surrounded myself with helped me put my heart back together again… I was giving again, but it has been a hard trek… I rebuild myself from the ground up, giving and giving; then my world is shattered, and I have to take… I hate asking for help, and I know that my family loathes giving me that help… It’s become a cycle, and I think we are all on it… We are all shattered at once, all need help at once, and there is no one who can give it… We all rebuild together, but we are slowly drifting apart…

I scared for my future, for all our futures… I want them to be together, but I think, inevitably, I am going to lose everyone…

I am at a loss for words, thoughts, or even emotions on the subject. I know i was scared for this moment to come, but why? What could they possibly do to me that they have not already done? They disowned me for marrying my soul mate. They made me feel like I was less than who I was because i did not fit their mold for a “normal girl”. I hated myself, but now, for once in my life, I am happy when I look in the mirror. I may not be normal. Who would want to be? I am proud to be uniquely me! I am no longer subject to their opinions!

But why do I feel like I am? Why do I even care about their opinions? After everything they did to me, what right do they have to even the tiniest piece of my love?

Yet that is my true issue… I love them, and all I want is for them to love me back…

I can be most colorful and inventive when I am angry. – Christopher Moore, Practical Demonkeeping

Lately, life has been complicated, and I am slowly processing every memory, every thought, every experience, unfiltered, for possibly the first time in my life. I am drained, and still, life must go on.

Today, I was reading through one of my house brother’s blogs, and some of what he said made me think. It made me reexamine some things I said in my journey entry on August 26, 2016, and compare them to some things I said yesterday while angry.

One doesn’t generally look into mirrors when one is especially angry; one has better things to do, like pace the floor or throw things. – Robin McKinley, The Blue Sword

When one is angry, you say a whole slew of things you want to take back, but there is usually a grain of truth behind whatever you say.

Speak when you are angry, and you’ll make the best speech you’ll ever regret. – Laurence J. Peter

Snow and M were arguing over something that turned out to be a big misunderstanding, and guess who tried to jump in the middle and just made things worse? This guy right here, with his foot in his mouth!!! And while originally examining why I flew off the handle so quickly, I came up empty. I was in the right after all! Why should I apologize? But given a night of sleep and some time reading about others’ problems, I started remembering things I said a few months ago that Snow assumed were about him, and comparing them to the words I told him yesterday through angry FaceBook messages. Why did I think this way, and most importantly, did I actually think these things about him?

Looking back, all I can remember is how I felt time after time when Shaggy would call to tell me,

I’ve decided we need to break up because I want to date [insert whore’s name here] because she’s prettier than you.

Over five years of on again, off again, dating him, I heard that phrase ten times about ten different girls, and every time it would break my heart. But every time he would come crawling back, I honestly believed that no one else would or could ever love me. I was ugly and unwanted.

Fast forward to marrying my soul mate, the love of my life, and “they lived happily ever after”, that did not come for years, because every time I would turn around, he would be apologizing because he had cheated on me with some “whore with a computer” and did not know what to do when he was done with her. And every time I would forgive him and help him do whatever necessary to lose her, including packing up and moving ourselves half way across the country, but in the back of my mind I would be hearing Shaggy’s voice telling me that she was prettier than me.

Now here I am, in this Sanctuary, crying my eyes out, because while I love Snow and M, I do not honestly know if every time I get angry with them I will hear Shaggy telling me that M loves him more, that Snow is more attractive, that it is just a matter of time before I am yesterday’s trash. And that scares me!!! I want to form lasting and loving relationships with both of them, but I do not know if I will ever reach “survivor status”.

For those of you who don’t know me, I am a transguy preschool teacher at a private Christian preschool. Obviously, I’m a masochist. I go to work every day hiding my identity behind a smile, an androgenous haircut, and a skirt. When I come home, my disphoria is so bad I immediately change clothes no matter where I have to be or what else I should be doing. It takes a lot out of me.

But yesterday, I not only came home disphoric. I came home angry. There is a little girl one of our classes who is a bit of a tomboy. She prefers to play with the dinosaurs and cars, and she cannot stand to play with the other little girls. Yesterday morning, on the playground, I noticed that she was hiding behind a toy, refusing to play all. I thought it was strange, but as I am not the teacher for her class, I was not responsible for what she decides to do during free play. I wrote it off, until afternoon playtime. When her class came out to join mine, I noticed that she was back to her normal self, racing toy motorcycles with the boys from her class. I smiled as I watched her, remembering what I was like at her age.

Suddenly, I was ripped from my happy memories by the shrill voice of her teacher, calling her over. “Stop playing with those boys!” Her teacher said, “You will get hurt. Go play princesses with the girls.”

“But i don’t like girls.”

“Why not? You’re a girl. I’m a girl. Ms. Delia Jade is a girl.” I stormed off, furious. I wanted to correct her, I wanted to tell her how horrible of a person she was for telling this little girl that what she enjoyed was wrong because it didn’t fit her gender identity but I couldn’t, not if I wanted to keep my job.

I’ve worked in other Christian preschools where it was accepted for boys to play with baby dolls and girls to play with cars, but we got a lot of flak from parents. WHY?! Boys are going to grow up to be fathers, and girls are going to grow up to drive a car. They need these life lessons just as much as anything else I can teach them. Why do we try to shove children in specific boxes when each one is unique and different. They are all going to grow up to be different things. Why try to make them all act the same now? I am fed up with the current system, and I am so thankful my teachers were so supportive of me. Even when my mother refused to let me play with GI Joes, my teachers let me pretend to be the red Power Ranger, and that meant a lot to four year old me.

I spent most of Friday excited about my “promotion” at work, only to be semi-triggered by my great aunt, to the point that I ran away and hid in the middle of a family meeting. I embarrassed myself, but everyone’s reactions taught me something about them.

Yesterday, I was feeling particularly emasculated; so I tried to cling to every bit of masculinity I have. We bought more clothes, mostly in camo, and a new bookshelf, which I insisted on putting together by myself. M kept pushing me to let him help, and every time he asked, it made me feel even more emasculated. I was pushing away those negative thoughts as best I could, yet they were starting to overwhelm me. As my thoughts became more chaotic, my actions became less precise. I ended up smashing my middle finger with the hammer, hammering two nails incorrectly, slamming my elbow in a door, and kicking the bed frame as I became more and more agitated. M and I ended up in a screaming match, and I ran. My feet took me out the front door, and I just kept going. I was paranoid, kept hearing voices or feeling presences behind me. I heard a siren at one point and thought they were coming to take me back to the hospital. I ran faster. I calmed some when I thought I heard Snow behind me. He never caught up, and I later learned that he was never there, but it was comforting to think that he cared enough to keep an eye on me. Somehow I ended up back at the house, and I crashed in the spare bedroom. My dreams were chaotic, panicked, and dark, but I seem to be doing better today.

Today M and I have to go to his brother’s birthday party, and M’s mother told him that he has to come out to his father today. Otherwise she will tell Mr. Homophobe that his son is pansexual herself. It’s going to be a long day.